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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26693671">We'll Always Have Rio</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_1701/pseuds/Anonymous_1701'>Anonymous_1701</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>American Dance movies, Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers - Fandom, Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers - movies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>American (US) Actor RPF - Freeform, F/M, Flying Down To Rio movie, Golden Age Hollywood, Infidelity, Inspired by Real Events, Old Hollywood - Freeform, Slow Burn, Wish Fulfillment, what happens when you have to work with your ex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:47:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26693671</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_1701/pseuds/Anonymous_1701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>STORY TWO.  What happens when you're stuck working with your hot AF ex?  Actor/Dancers Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers are about to find out.</p><p>Follows the movie "Flying Down to Rio" from 1933.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fred Astaire &amp; Ginger Rogers, Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Hollywood Dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fred dubiously eyeballed the dregs of coffee remaining in the pot in the production office kitchen, inspecting it in the light coming in through the windows. Weak and barely warm, Fred hated his coffee like that. If he was gonna drink the bitter liquid, then it should at least do its job – taste good and keep him awake. He pinched his eyes, willing them to stay open. He hadn’t slept much last night; his brain wouldn’t shut off and he’d tossed and turned. His new bride Phyllis had had no idea what to do with him this morning. As he had gagged down the slightly burnt toast that she’d made for him, she had given him a pep talk, but it had disturbed him more than it reassured him. Gazing at him over the rim of her teacup, she had reminded him that she expected to be kept in a manner that she was accustomed to and that she wouldn’t tolerate any complications. Pouring himself a cup of the insipid coffee, he stared unseeing out into the sunny private courtyard, and tried to shake off the argument. It didn’t help that he was on his way to see the primary "complication” right now.</p>
<p>Today he see his ex-girlfriend for the first time in two years. Fred had dated Ginger, a Broadway actress and dancer, before he had met Phyllis, and there had been nothing casual about their short but intense relationship; he would have married her if she had stayed in New York. Cheerful and sunny, he still missed her. He could easily picture her petite figure, strong dancer’s legs, brilliant blue eyes, and pretty auburn hair in his mind’s eye. He could picture a lot of other things, too; how she felt when they danced, how she laughed so hard she got hiccups or how she looked sprawled naked in his bed. The memories tormented him. She had left two years ago for Hollywood and left his heart in a hundred shattered pieces. He had never expected to see her again. As a result, he had worked hard to get over her and had met, pursued, and married a young, divorced socialite named Phyllis. Phyllis was quiet, calm, good with money and organized – all the things that Ginger wasn’t. Still, when work on Broadway dried up due to the economic fallout of what everyone was calling the Great Depression, he had jumped at the chance to work in Hollywood. He hadn’t imagined that his second film would be with his ex-girlfriend. He would see her today at the Table Read for the first time since she had left him. His stomach was in knots. </p>
<p>He also worried that he knew so little about film production. He had worked on one movie so far, but he had only a bit part and one small dance to worry about. It had not performed very well at the box office. This production was significantly larger and Fred would be in charge of his solo dances, his dances with Ginger, plus he would be helping the Dance Director with the large group dances, some of which had up to a hundred dancers. It was a big responsibility. A lot of people were depending on him and he didn’t want to let them down.</p>
<p>A headache threatened to flare up and it was only 9am. Maybe caffeine would help. The unappetizing paper cup of joe gave him something to fidget with, at least. He resolutely tucked his dog-eared script under his arm, slurped down some of the watery coffee and turned into the long hallway towards the production office conference room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ginger was late. She’d gotten into it with her mother, Lela, who just couldn’t resist warning her against getting involved with her ex-boyfriend again. As if she would. As a result, her angry, fast driving had resulted in the speeding ticket shoved into the depths of her purse. What a rotten way to start a new movie. At least she could afford to pay it. The fat paycheck for this movie was one reason she’d agreed to make it. The second reason was that it looked like it would be really fun, too, with a location shoot in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.  She'd never gone on location before.</p>
<p>The final reason was pure curiosity. Her ex-boyfriend would be making the movie with her, and she wanted to welcome him to Hollywood. What was he like after two years? Did he remember the eight amazing months they’d been together in New York? She couldn’t forget, no matter how hard she tried. The memory of his funny heart shaped balding head, expressive hazel eyes, totally ripped dancer’s body and his talented hands wouldn’t leave her alone at night, even now. He had sent her several letters, but she had never responded to them. Eventually, she heard through the grapevine that he’d gotten married two months ago to a woman named Phyllis. Jealousy bubbled up but she crushed it relentlessly. </p>
<p>She shouldn’t be jealous. She was dating a really nice guy she’d met at a party last spring, an actor named Lew Ayers. In a strange twist, she recalled sitting with Fred two years ago, watching a film starring Lew, ”All Quiet on the Western Front”. She and Fred had never seen the end of the movie because they were making out noisily in the back row and they had left before the movie ended. Wouldn’t Fred be surprised? A few jitters rippled through her at the thought of seeing him again, but mostly she was looking forward to it. </p>
<p>The security guards at the Gower street entrance greeted her cheerfully for a Monday, and admitted her into the studio. The lot appeared slow and sleepy so far this morning. Hurrying towards the production office, she passed the sound stages they would be shooting on for most of the picture. The big rolling doors were partially open to the southern California morning sunshine. A curious peek inside revealed carpenters and paint crews hard at work finishing up the sets they would be shooting on in another week. Anticipation made her grin - she would act and dance on those sets soon. Performing made her feel alive. Getting this contract gig with RKO Studios, at only age twenty two, was the best thing that had ever happened to her.  </p>
<p>Hurrying inside the production office, she waved cheerfully to the production assistant manning the front office. Her feet made no noise on the deep carpet as she rounded the corner as fast as her heels could take her.  She did not want to be too late for this meeting and she really wanted to make a good impression on the new bosses.  </p>
<p>She never saw Fred until she plowed right into him coming out of the tiny kitchen. The coffee he was cradling splashed between them and they went right over onto the floor, Ginger on top, Fred on the bottom and lukewarm coffee everywhere in between.</p>
<p>“Ouch!  OH MY GOD.”  Ginger yelped.</p>
<p>“Hey, watch it!”  Fred shouted.</p>
<p>“Oh, damn,” they both said at the same time, eyeball to eyeball, shocked faces inches apart.</p>
<p>“Hi, Freddie.” Ginger crawled off him and plopped onto the carpet beside him in stunned silence.</p>
<p>“Hiya, Ginge.” Fred shook dripping coffee off of his fingers and sat up. Ginger looked thoroughly disgusted, trying to wipe the coffee off of her top. He reached over to help her brush it off, but she slapped his hand away before he could touch her. She glared between him and her ruined blouse.</p>
<p>“Are you hurt?” he asked. This was obviously his fault; he should have been more careful exiting the kitchen. Ginger covered her face with her hands, and her shoulder began to shake. Oh god, he’d hurt her, and it was the first time that he’d seen her in years, and it was the first day of work and ….</p>
<p>Her giggling broke through, quiet at first as she caught her breath, then louder and louder until she was crying with laughter. She glanced at Fred, at his comically concerned, scared face, and laughed louder. She started hiccupping. People down the hallway at the Table Read had heard the hullabaloo and hurried to help. The Production Coordinator rushed towards them, shouting for towels. Fred uncertainly began to smile.</p>
<p>“Give me a hand up!” Ginger demanded, shaking with laughter. Her blue eyes danced with amusement. Fred leapt to his feet and hauled her up off of the floor.<br/>
</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”</p>
<p>“Obviously. How can you be the most coordinated dancer I know, Fred, AND such a god damned klutz sometimes?”  She hadn’t let go of his hand, and Fred hadn’t taken it back from her.  He shrugged and a grin grew on his face.</p>
<p>“Are you guys okay?”  Production personnel stepped between them, handing them towels and giving advice. “We have extra clothes in Wardrobe, I’ll send someone down to grab some clean shirts. Hang on!”  People ran this way and that, and orders were shouted, and the mischief was managed.</p>
<p>Amidst the pandemonium, Fred caught Ginger’s eye and their giggles started up again. Just like old times.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>************************* </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The large conference room was just barely big enough to fit all the essential people. The table took up the middle of the room, and was surrounded by seated cast members, writers, producers and department heads. More people were seated in chairs lining the wall. With two dozen people crammed into the room, the air conditioner labored to keep the room comfortable. Fred and Ginger were two of the last people in, due to their coffee mishap, but seats had been saved for them.  Fred held Ginger’s chair for her while covertly looking around at the other occupants. Taking his own seat, he ruffled his script in his hands and tried to get comfortable in the hard, straight backed chairs. His stomach churned but he tried to look as composed as possible.</p>
<p>The Table Read went smoothly, much to his surprise. The Director, Thornton Fredland, introduced himself and welcomed everyone. He was a young director, right around Fred’s own age of thirty-four, and had experience making light romantic comedies and musicals. The rest of the cast was already seated, thumbing through their scripts, or ogling the newcomers, and they all took turns introducing themselves. Dolores del Rio (the leading lady) was utterly gorgeous, Raul Roulien (leading man) was very professional sounding, and Gene Raymond, who was to play the bandleader, seemed like a good guy. He was the one that Fred would be acting with mostly, besides Ginger. The actor who was cast as the Head Waiter, Eric Blore, already had everyone in stitches. Fred was a little apprehensive about introducing himself, but everyone smiled encouragingly. The producers and writers introduced themselves and all in all, it seemed like it would be a good group to work with.  </p>
<p>Ginger sat directly across from him, and they traded glances throughout the morning as everybody read through the script together. Fred couldn’t take his eyes off her blond hair. In New York, her hair was her natural brunette with a hint of red. The light strawberry blond was distracting, and he liked it. The change made her seem Hollywood glamorous. He flipped through the pages, his attention divided between the meeting, Ginger and his thoughts. He had never worked with her before and wondered what that would be like. On Broadway, he had a dozen years of experience – and she was the up and coming ingenue. They had worked on different plays, but they’d met when Fred was called in to fix one of her dances. Now, the roles were reversed. By his count, she had nearly twenty movies under her belt, both bit parts and leading roles. Now she was the experienced one, and he was the novice. Audiences adored this blond haired, blue eyed girl-next-door beauty and the RKO Studio had kept her working constantly as a contract player, churning out movie after movie. Fred couldn’t blame them. He hoped that he could ask her for acting advice. After running into her with the coffee this morning, though, maybe he should just hope that they were still on speaking terms.</p>
<p>After the meeting, the main cast went to view the sets. They all entered the first cavernous soundstage, split into smaller groups, and enjoyed the cool after the short but warm walk. The September weather was still hot with the last days of summer. Thorne (as he liked to be called) pulled Fred aside. He called over to two men who had sat along the wall at the table read, and who were now wandering around the sets, pointing, and conversing.</p>
<p>“Hey Dave!” he called, “Come here for a minute!”</p>
<p>Dave jogged over, and a younger man followed on his heels. </p>
<p>“Dave Gould, I want you to meet Fred Astaire,” Thorne said, “He’s going to be working with you on the big group dance sequences, though any solos are his sole responsibilities.”</p>
<p>To Fred, he said, “Dave is our Dance Director.”</p>
<p>Fred stuck out his hand and Dave shook it. “Nice to meet you.”</p>
<p>“Likewise,” Dave said, smiling broadly and turning to Ginger for an introduction.</p>
<p>“And Ginger Rogers, who will be playing ‘Honey Hale’.” </p>
<p>“Hello, ma’am. It’s a pleasure.”</p>
<p>Ginger shook his hand politely, but she squealed when she saw the younger man lingering behind him. Unexpectedly she pushed past Dave and threw her arms around him in a huge hug. He blushed at her exuberance but hugged her back.</p>
<p>“And over here we have Assistant Dance Director, Hermes Pan,” Thorne paused, “Who obviously already knows Ginger.”</p>
<p>Ginger nodded enthusiastically, smiling up at the sandy haired young man next to her. “We worked together on my very first Broadway show, “Top Speed”, years ago. Hermes was a background dancer, I was chorus line, and we got to know one another. He’s amazing!” </p>
<p>Fred stuck out his hand. He wanted to get to know this young man, who Ginger obviously adored. Now that he had a good look at Hermes, he realized that the young man actually resembled him a lot. It was like looking in a fun house mirror, and a bit disconcerting. He wondered if they were an item.</p>
<p>“Hello, I’m Fred. Nice to meet another dancer.”</p>
<p>Hermes shook his hand but stuttered nervously at meeting the Broadway legend. He looked helplessly over at Ginger.</p>
<p>She laughed and took Hermes’ arm. “Thorne, are we done here?  Hermes is going to treat me to ice cream, aren’t you?” </p>
<p>“Um, yes?” He nodded, looking surprised but gratified.</p>
<p>Thorne nodded his dismissal. “Yeah, head out, you two.”</p>
<p>“Thanks. See ya tomorrow.” With that, she gave Fred a last look, and her and Hermes walked off, leaving a slightly jealous Fred in their wake.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>************************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fred stomped into his house and threw his keys and wallet down on the credenza in the entry hallway, and meandered into the kitchen. Pouring himself a glass of water, he sighed deeply. He wondered at Hermes Pan, the young man who looked so much like himself. Had Ginger replaced him with a guy who looked enough like himself to be a brother? The thought was irritating. At least the rest of the day had gone well. He had met everyone, visited the sets, and was on his way to learning everything there was to know about film production. It rankled a little bit that Ginger had left without even speaking to him. Then again, they had the next several weeks to catch up.</p>
<p>Entering the living room, Fred sank into his recliner. Phyllis was knitting in hers, listening to a radio program. Her four year old son Peter was nowhere to be seen. He was probably out with his nanny.</p>
<p>“How did it go today?” She asked, not taking her eyes from her project. The long needles clicked in her busy hands.</p>
<p>“Fine. Met a lot of people, visited the sets.”</p>
<p>“Was that girl there?”</p>
<p>Fred sighed. Phyllis was not keen on the idea of Fred making a movie with an old flame. Still, he suspected that she was as disinterested in the details of film production as she had been with his stage work on Broadway, so he saw no need to burden her with a lot of details. </p>
<p>“Yeah. We didn’t talk much, though. She left right after the table read and walk through with the Assistant Dance Director. Maybe they’re an item or something. I don’t know.”</p>
<p>Apparently, that was a sufficiently disinterested answer. The rest of the evening passed smoothly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*********************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hermes and Ginger walked into the ice cream shop on Melrose Avenue, just down the street from RKO.  They squeezed side by side into a small booth, ready to catch up. Hermes commented on her blond hair and inquired after her mother, Ginger asked about his mother and sisters and they generally brought each other up to speed on their lives after a couple years apart.</p>
<p>“So, that’s the famous Broadway dancer, Fred Astaire.” Hermes began, digging into his bowl of chocolate chip mint and giving her a sidelong glance.</p>
<p>“Yep.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no, no, no.  That’s not sufficient, Gin!” Hermes laughed, “Give me the dirt. I heard a rumor that you two dated back in New York.”</p>
<p>“Yep.” Ginger wasn’t giving anything up easily.</p>
<p>Hermes persisted.  The less she said, the more interested he became.</p>
<p>“Isn’t he a little old for you?”</p>
<p>She frowned and shook her head.</p>
<p>“No, we actually have quite a lot in common. We get along very well.”</p>
<p>“So… those looks you were trading all morning with him means….?”</p>
<p>Ginger coughed through the mouthful of cherry ice cream that she’d just scooped up. “Oh, god, were we obvious?” </p>
<p>She was aghast at the thought. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of everyone, at least not on the first day, and at least not until she got to know the cast and crew better.  </p>
<p>“No, not really.” Hermes smiled smugly, having made her react. “He’s kind of cute. Like a puppy.”</p>
<p>Now it was Ginger’s turn to laugh. </p>
<p>“He IS kinda cute, isn’t he?” </p>
<p>She had momentarily forgotten that Hermes was gay. He was also very discrete about it and Ginger only knew because she’d walked in on him making out with another male dancer backstage on “Top Speed” once. She knew he kept his personal life quiet out of fear for his career. While Hollywood was generally pretty accepting of gay actors, it wasn’t something that anyone went around advertising. The 20’s had been very open, but a creeping cloud of conservativism was enveloping Hollywood, and rumors could possibly ruin a career, now in the 1930’s.</p>
<p> “Yeah, he is.” She sighed and mixed her ice cream up in the bowl, stabbing at it with the spoon and fishing out the cherry chunks. “I’ve tried really hard to forget about him, Hermes.”</p>
<p>She hesitated, “I’m not sure the studio executives know about our past relationship. I’d like to keep it that way.” </p>
<p>Hermes watched her shoulders slump and her smile faded as she scooped up another bite. He knew all about secret relationships; he’d had several. It shouldn’t interfere with their working relationship, though, if they were adults about it. However, he didn’t like to see his friend get down in the dumps, especially at the start of what should be a really fun film shoot. He was thrilled that they were going to be working together again, and that he was going to get to work with the famous hoofer Fred Astaire, whom he had admired from afar for years.</p>
<p>“Hey, you’ll manage just fine. You’re a professional. I’ll help you any way that I can. Your little secret is safe with me – if you’ll give me a chance to dance with him!”</p>
<p>Hermes’ enthusiasm was contagious. “You’re on.” </p>
<p>They shook hands, sealing the deal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>******************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That night in bed, Fred stared at the ceiling for a long time. He had a bad feeling that he wasn’t over Ginger as much as he had thought. Seeing her again had been hard. After an hour of restless tossing and turning, he gave up on trying to sleep and stumbled into the shower. The steaming hot water helped ease his tense shoulders but did nothing for the rest of his agitated body. The memory of her on top of him in the production office hallway was turning him on, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. Her brilliant blue eyes, her perfume, even the memory of her silly hiccups all contributed to his discomfort. He couldn’t resist remembering the last time he’d had sex with her on the day she left him, against the wall of his Broadway dressing room, desperate, heartsick, and fierce. Taking matters literally in hand, he came so hard he saw stars. </p>
<p>Finally, he was able to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. City of Angeles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>How can dancing together feel so right and be so wrong?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the fifth take and Fred ran his hands through his thinning hair in frustration. The dialog was just not sticking in his brain today and that was most unusual for him. Usually his photographic memory served him well. That skill had apparently evaporated, and he knew it was because Ginger was acting against him for the first time. Somehow, she had managed to avoid him until he had to be on the set filming with her. They were shooting a scene where he was supposed to confront Dolores’ character, Belinha, in an upscale restaurant and then get kicked to the curb. Then, his character reunites with Ginger’s character, Honey, on the sidewalk outside. This morning, the first part with Dolores had gone well, and they had gotten it in three shots. This afternoon they had moved on to the exterior scene with Fred and Ginger and he kept screwing it up. Every time she took a bite of the cookie, he just forgot what he was doing. Repeatedly. So far Ginger had eaten parts of five cookies, and she wasn’t very happy about it. The Director finally called for a break. </p><p>“All right, everyone take ten.” </p><p>Fred strode over to the craft service table, snatched a bottle of apple juice, and returned to his chair, sitting down hard, and frowning in frustration. He tried doing some breathing exercises and closed his eyes. He absolutely hated that he wasn’t getting this right. He knew the dialog, at least until he stepped on set, then it all seemed to be like sand slipping through his fingers when confronted with Ginger’s big blue eyes and those perfect lips. He had to get a grip on himself. It was embarrassing, and unprofessional and he felt like a big idiot. He felt like every person on the set knew that he was forgetting his lines because he had it bad for Ginger. Delivering lines wasn’t rocket science.  A hand on his shoulder startled him.</p><p>“Hey Freddie, what’s going on?”  Ginger stood next to his chair, concern in her eyes.  </p><p>“I don’t know,” Fred moaned, knowing perfectly well what his problem was. “Maybe I should have stuck it out on Broadway. Maybe I’m not cut out to be an actor.”</p><p>“Oh, nonsense.” Ginger pulled her own chair next to his.  “You’re catastrophizing. You’ve got this.”</p><p>Fred wanted to believe that her concern was more than professional curtesy, but he appreciated the sentiment and the support behind it anyway. He blew out a heavy breath and sipped his juice, shaking his head. </p><p>“This is a load of balls. I should be able to do this in my sleep,” he grumbled, “I can memorize entire treatises at one go. What’s got into me?”</p><p>She stared at him a moment, her eyes shrewd and piercing.  She smacked him with her rolled up script and Fred yelped. </p><p>“I could take a guess, but it is probably something we shouldn’t talk about here.” She stood up and stretched, lifting her arms over her head, and raising them towards the ceiling, ready to tackle the scene again. Fred’s eyes watched her every move, roving over her body so obviously that she wanted to smack him again. She settled for patting him on the shoulder. “Get your shit together, Fred, and we can go get lunch afterwards. We need to talk.”</p><p>The Director called everyone together again and the shot finally went off without a hitch after two takes. After consulting with the Script Supervisor, he double checked that he didn’t need Ginger nor Fred for the rest of the day. He released the actors, and the First Assistant Director, Lou Brock, gave them their call times for the next morning. After changing out of their wardrobe, perhaps only Hermes Pan saw them leave together.</p><p> </p><p>**********************************</p><p>Griffith Park, the four thousand acre urban park on the north edge of Los Angeles and a few miles from the movie lot, was sunny and warm as Fred and Ginger found a big shady live oak tree to sit under. He spread out a blanket on the grass that they’d pulled from the back seat of Ginger’s car, and she carried over the bag of groceries and drinks that she’d bought on the way here. The leaves on the trees were just beginning to change colors – red, orange, brown and golden oak leaves fluttered on the oaks or lay on the ground while the still green leaves clung to the branches.  It was still warm on this lovely September day. In the distance they could hear cars on the freeway and on Los Feliz Blvd. but for the most part, the day was quiet. They definitely did not want eavesdroppers or paparazzi around.  Fortunately, Ginger knew a spot that was secluded but still accessible by vehicle. She frequently walked her dog in Griffith Park and knew it well.</p><p>Ginger was relieved to find that the easy camaraderie that she had with Fred still existed.  The conversation on the way had been light and cheerful. Away from the stress of the movie lot, it was much easier to talk and just be themselves instead of so-called movie stars.  Here, they were just two people on a picnic on a lovely summer day in early September. </p><p>She passed him some sliced salami and cheese wedges and an iced tea. Folding her legs under her, she settled next to him and breathed in the clean air. It certainly seemed to smell nicer here than in Manhattan. It must be the proximity to the ocean, which she’d fallen in love with. The southern California landscape was growing on her, and she was eyeballing some of the larger Spanish-Colonial style homes further up into the hills than her little two bedroom bungalow off Sunset Blvd. So far, Hollywood was everything that she’d hoped it would be and some of the things that she suspected it was, which weren’t as nice, like the rampant sexism, ageism, and casual misogyny. However, everything had proven manageable. </p><p>“So, how are you liking Hollywood, Fred?” she thought this would be an easy enough entry into purposeful conversation. She watched a squirrel chase another squirrel up and down a tree and screech at each other. They were kinda cute. In fact, they reminded her of herself and Fred.  She was tempted to run up a tree and do some screeching herself right about now. It was time for an awkward conversation, and she wasn’t looking forward to it.</p><p>Fred swallowed a mouthful of cheese and replied, “It’s nice here. It’s just that I don’t really know anyone yet and it’s pretty lonely, just Phyllis and I.”</p><p>“You should get out some, go to some parties, meet people.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s not really my thing,” he said, waving off the suggestion. He actually abhorred parties, and only went if it was required for work. He could dance in front of hundreds of people if necessary but clammed up in front of more than one other person. The only parties he’d been comfortable at were those thrown by their mutual friend, George Gershwin, and they usually ended up just playing the piano together while everyone else partied. George was still living in New York.</p><p>“Well, you’re not going to meet anyone but the mailman if you stay home.” She pointed out the obvious.</p><p>“It’s not Phyllis’ thing either.” He submitted this into the conversation cautiously.</p><p>Ginger took the hint.  “Congratulations on your marriage, Fred.” </p><p>“Thanks,” he replied, lowering his head, and picking at the picnic blanket. “It’s going okay.”</p><p>She wasn’t quite sure what to make of that comment. It was not the enthusiastic response of a newly wed man that she had expected.  She glanced at him between bites of a cracker.</p><p>“Does Phyllis like Hollywood?” she asked, trying again to make conversation.</p><p>Fred looked up at her and thought of the two women he loved and how very different they were.  Ginger was outgoing, silly, affectionate, and passionate about everything she did. Phyllis was shy, serious, and exuded calm and sophistication. What both women shared was wicked intelligence and a sense of humor. Phyllis was as much of a homebody as Fred was, though, and that was one thing they really enjoyed about one another.</p><p>“No, she’s not very enthused,” Fred admitted, “she thinks people here are uncultured and gauche.”</p><p>“Well, they’re not ill-mannered, pushy New Yorkers, either” Ginger shot back. Occasionally the casualness of the people out west surprised her, but it was usually in a pleasant way. </p><p>“She’s not from New York, she’s from Boston.” Fred answered. His wife was definitely of the socialite caste and he’d “married up” as it was called. He usually liked the genteel manners and aristocratic atmosphere. Knowing exactly what to do in any situation, based on social expectations, reduced his ever-present anxiety.  </p><p>Ginger hummed and didn’t answer. She knew the kind. They were generally an ostentatious bunch of pompous, strait-laced upper crust glitterati who found manual laborers and working class people, like dancers and film production crew, to be beneath their notice. She wondered how on earth Fred had gotten mixed up in something like that. Surely, he’d sweated enough on a dance floor with all kinds of people to realize that people were just people. Maybe his wife considered Broadway dancers and successful actors and producer types to be above all that, due to their fame and income. Oh well. It was no longer her business anyway. She handed him some more salami as his napkin emptied.</p><p>“You’ll never guess whom I’m dating!” she blurted out, to change the topic.</p><p>He looked up from his napkin and raised his eyebrows in reluctant expectation.</p><p>“Do you remember when we went to the theater that one time and saw “All Quiet on the Western Front? That war movie? And I told you that my cousin used to date the lead actor, Lew Ayers?”</p><p>Fred nodded cautiously, a horrible feeling rising in his stomach.</p><p>“I met Lew at a party a year ago, and then last spring we did a small movie together on a 4-week shoot.” Ginger gushed onward, oblivious to Fred’s aghast expression. “We’ve been dating off and on since then.  Of course, I do hit the town with a few other nice guys, too, mostly to go dancing, but I think this could be going somewhere.”</p><p>Inwardly, Fred groaned. He had heard that Ginger dated a lot. He knew from personal experience that she just liked and appreciated the male half of the species. It made a hot burst of jealousy erupt in his stomach to think about it. Outwardly, he composed his facial features into a polite expression. He happened to agree with Ginger’s mom, Lela, that she had no “horse sense” when it came to men, except maybe himself, of course. Surely, she realize the absurdity of getting into a relationship with someone that she’d had a teenage crush on! Did she even know him? Oh, well. It was none of his business any more who she dated. </p><p>“Wow, who would have guessed.” </p><p>The silence stretched between them, the seconds dragging into minutes. Ginger took sips of her tea and Fred nibbled on a bit of cracker. The squirrels continued to chase one another and screech. A bicyclist zoomed past them down the small road without looking their way. Finally, Fred threw his napkin in the grocery bag.</p><p>“Yeah, this isn’t awkward or anything.”</p><p>Ginger laughed, a short, staccato burst. “Well, we’re both at fault, I suppose. I left New York and you got married. Now we’re stuck working together on an incredible opportunity that neither of us can afford to mess up.”</p><p>Fred thought about it and agreed to that succinct conclusion. This was her first big step up from small movies to the big leagues, and his first “foot in the door” to the world of Hollywood musicals.</p><p>“That about sums it up.”</p><p>Ginger began to collect the trash from their lunch and pack things up.  </p><p>“We can work together, can’t we, Freddie? This is our big break. I don’t want to mess it up; I need this.  And you do, too.”</p><p>Fred considered how to reply.  He helped pack up the remainder of the lunch items until only the blanket that they still sat on was left. </p><p>“Yeah,” he said finally, “but Ginge, I gotta tell you, I’m second guessing myself here. Maybe I shouldn’t have left New York. Maybe I shouldn’t be putting myself in temptations’ way.” </p><p>At that, she looked away from him and gathered the bag of groceries and trash into her lap, her eyes unreadable.</p><p>“If I had known I’d be here, seeing you again… I guess I’m screwing up my lines because I just go blank when I look at you. All I can remember is our time together in New York; I just can’t help looking at you and it’s stupid, but there it is.”</p><p>She looked up sharply. His hazel gaze locked with hers. </p><p>“So, you’re saying you forget your lines because you just want to stare at me.” She gave an incredulous snort and rolled her eyes. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard today.”</p><p>Fred shrugged, stung.</p><p>“Well, stop worrying about it, Fred. I’m not going anywhere. As long as you’re in Los Angeles, I promise you that you’ll see me.”</p><p>She leaned forward a bit, to brush off a leaf that had fallen onto her dress and a sudden sparkle on her neck caught his eye. He leaned over, cautiously, and gently pulled the golden chain out from behind her collar, and she allowed it. It was the gold and diamond “V” necklace that he’d gifted to her in New York, in the one Christmas that they had spent together. The diamonds sparkled in his hand. He brushed his thumb over it, memories of that evening rushing over him in a tide.  He felt the flush wash up from his stomach to his cheeks. </p><p>Her eyes were inches from his own, now.  Looking up into her baby blues, he was surprised to see how wary they were.  </p><p>“Well, see, that’s the thing. I don’t forget my lines because I want to stare at you. I forget my lines because I’m still in love with you.”</p><p>Ginger straightened abruptly and carefully pulled the chain out of his hand, tucking it back into her dress top, out of sight. She frowned at him, her blue eyes flashing.</p><p>“You think I don’t know that? You’re rather obvious on set, and I can't help worrying that it's going to cause trouble.”</p><p>Fred opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it.  She continued, shredding a napkin in her hands.</p><p>“Men look at me all the time, Fred. Usually they look at me with lust in their eyes and it’s easy to forget about because it means nothing to me. It’s just men being men. But when you look at me, it’s more than that.” She stood up and yanked hard on a corner of the picnic blanket. Fred obediently stood up and she folded it up roughly. “I know it, you know it, so no pussy-footing around here.”</p><p>Fred picked up the bag of groceries and held it in front of him like a shield.  Her anger blazed at him.</p><p>“I like you, Freddie. Actually, no, I probably love you still, and always will. But so help me, I will not give up my career for you. I’m pretty sure I made that clear two years ago.” </p><p>Turning her back on him, she started towards the car. He followed, quiet. After a few feet, she turned on him so abruptly that he involuntarily took a step back, “I love seeing you every day. I can’t wait to dance with you again. I am happy to read lines with you before every scene that we shoot together if that’ll help you be successful. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this movie outstanding. But you’ve got to do your part. We’re actors. It’s what we do.” </p><p>She fingered the necklace around her neck. “I love you, Fred, but we have to find a way to work together. It’s not like it used to be.” She paused,” You’re married, Fred, and that’s your fault.”</p><p>She stomped off toward the car again, gathering up the poorly folded blanket as it trailed on the ground.</p><p>“Yep, that’s my fault.” Fred admitted quietly. “Son of a bitch.”</p><p>Ginger had nearly reached her car when he snapped into motion.</p><p>“Hey, wait, wait, wait.” He put the bag down on the front of the car and leaned over the roof at her as she jangled the keys in the lock on the drivers’ side door. “Ginge, you’re right. I’m being a dolt.”<br/>
</p><p>She nodded and arched an eyebrow at him.  She was so tiny that he could only see her eyes and forehead over the roof of the car, but that was enough.</p><p>“I’m just so excited to see you again when I never thought I would, and it turned my head.” He searched his brain for any useful words that would turn the tide. “I promise I’ll get my head on straight. Purely professional from here on out. Word of honor.”</p><p>She regarded him silently for a few moments, then nodded her head cautiously. He had always kept is word to her. She unlocked his door and they drove back to the studio lot so Fred could get his car.</p><p> </p><p>***********************************</p><p>Fred replayed the conversation in his mind on his drive home. She said that he would see her as long as he stayed in Los Angeles, and he didn’t have any right to ask anything more of her. Maybe even that was more than he deserved.</p><p>************************************</p><p>“I called the studio looking for you, but they said you’d already been cut loose for the day.” </p><p>Ginger’s mother was finishing dinner up, while Ginger set the table in the dining room.  She hesitated as she set a fork to the left of a plate. She could hear the questions in her mother’s voice and knew the inquisition was coming. “Yeah, I got out a bit early this afternoon.”</p><p>Lela set a bowl of spaghetti down on the table. “So, where were you?  That was hours ago.” She returned to the kitchen for the salad and garlic bread.</p><p>“How is that your business?” Ginger grumbled. She didn’t appreciate being called out as if she were a naughty teenager. She had the fate of an entire Hollywood movie studio, on the verge of bankruptcy, riding on her twenty two-year old shoulders, not to mention the livelihood of hundreds of crew members and dozens of actors. She knew exactly what her business was, and it weighed heavily on her. It wasn’t as if she were irresponsible. Impulsive, maybe, but never irresponsible.</p><p>“Oh, Gin, you were with Fred, weren’t you?” The disapproval dripped from her voice. Lela set down the food and put her hands on her hips as Ginger finished setting the table.</p><p>“I wasn’t WITH him in any way other than a picnic, Mother. We needed to talk about how we were going to work together now.” There was no way Ginger was going to divulge the contents of her conversation with Fred, not even to her mother. Lela was capable of managing the business side of her career, but she drew the line at letting her have too much interference in her relationships.</p><p>“Well, okay then.” Lela snapped back. The implied message that Ginger wasn’t a capable adult filled her with rage. She didn’t need this interrogation from her mother right now. Seeing Fred again had indeed thrown her for a loop and made her feel all mixed up inside, but her mother didn’t need to stick her nose into what wasn’t her business. Ginger was perfectly capable of making her own choices.</p><p>She stood up, a blond pixie in a fury, slammed her hands down on the table and faced Lela squarely. “Stay out of my love life, Mother. There’s nothing going on.”</p><p>Ginger’s younger cousin, Helen, walked in to dining room right in the middle of the conversation and froze. The two women on either side of the table, mother and daughter, glared at each other. She wasn’t quite sure what to do. Fortunately, she was saved by the doorbell ringing.</p><p>Ring, ring.</p><p>Lela’s face changed to a smug little smile.</p><p>“That would be Lew.  I invited him for dinner.”</p><p>Ring, ring.</p><p>Helen backed away from the table slowly.  “I’ll get it.”</p><p>Ginger would have liked to stomp away to her room, but that would only serve to reinforce the idea that she needed chaperoning in her love life. </p><p>“Mother! You didn’t!”</p><p>Ring, ring.</p><p>“No, Helen, I’ll get the door.” Ginger stormed away from the table and paused a moment. She was an actress, goddammit, and now she had to put on a false front at home, too. It wasn’t fair, but no one said life was. She took a deep breath and opened the door.</p><p>“Hello Lew! Come in. It’s good to see you.” She was all smiles and welcome now. Lew gave her a polite peck on the cheek as she took his jacket, and they all converged in the dining room.</p><p>The dinner proceeded without a hitch. Lew prattled on during the whole meal about his next movie, without once asking Ginger about hers, and Helen hung on his every word. Ginger looked daggers at Lela whenever Lew was engaged in telling yet another story. Lela just smiled serenely.</p><p>If her daughter wouldn’t take care of these opportunities that knocked, Lela will do her best to make sure she did.</p><p> </p><p>**************************************</p><p> </p><p>Everything had settled down on set. Fred improved marvelously, and true to his word, he exuded professionalism, working hard at memorizing his lines and hitting every mark. Thorne gushed about the improvement in his acting. The remainder of the shoot on the lot were scenes that neither he nor Ginger were involved in, so his focus was on the dances. He was much more comfortable in this world.<br/>
</p><p>He jumped down off of the dancing floor on the set. The dances were coming along, and he dismissed the six professional dancers who would be accompanying them to Rio di Janeiro.  They would be the core group around which he would put local dancers for all the trick “dancing on planes” scenes.  He personally thought it was ridiculous, but he would do his best not to let it look like a disaster. He was working well with Dave Gould, the dance director. It was going as good as could be expected of a movie newbie and a dance director who didn’t actually dance.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! Hello on the set!”  Ginger rapped her knuckles on the stage wall loudly.  </p><p>“Come in, come in!” Fred waved her over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. He noticed Hermes Pan tagging along behind her, walking with his hands shoved into his pockets. “Hi… Hermes, isn't it?”<br/>
</p><p>Hermes stuttered a shy hello. Fred smiled warmly. “It’s good to see you both. It’s Carioca time! Wanna get started?”</p><p>“Yeah, let’s get this show on the road.”</p><p>Ginger went to start stretching out while Fred puttered around with the record player on top of the piano. Dave was already on set with Fred, and he grabbed a seat in one of the director’s chairs and watched curiously as Fred wiggled his whole body stretching and then cracked his knuckles.</p><p>“Hermes, wanna start the record?  Can you start and stop as we dope out this dance?”</p><p>He looked flattered to be asked to help out.  </p><p>“Sure, I’ll do my best.” </p><p>Fred lightly put his hands on Ginger’s waist, and they started the hard work of creating a dance. It meant a lot of starting and stopping and negotiating on the hard dance floor. The sound of their steps echoed in the cavernous sound stage. Fortunately, Fred was an extremely talented choreographer and Ginger trusted him implicitly with dance steps, so it didn’t take too long. However, something was missing; it needed a little extra “zing” to make it sing.  Fred wanted this dance to be something special. After all, it would be the first dance (and possibly the last) time that he and Ginger would dance together on film.  He wanted it to be spectacular.</p><p>They took a water break and Fred scratched his head.  </p><p>“Hey Dave, any ideas?”</p><p>“Not really, I just move people around. Hang on.” Dave turned to Hermes, sitting at the piano bench.</p><p>“Hey Hermes, go and see if you can be off assistance to Mr. Astaire?”</p><p>Hermes looked like he was walking to his own execution, but he got up and crossed the set to where Fred and Ginger were standing, guzzling water.</p><p>“Hermes is very talented, Fred.” Ginger put in.</p><p>“Oh, good, you’re a dancer.” Fred exclaimed.</p><p>Only Ginger could see how much that casual phrase meant to Hermes. </p><p>“I’m stuck for a step HERE.  Can you think of anything?” After dancing a few steps, Fred curiously gestured at Hermes. </p><p>Hermes took a deep breath. He actually did have what he thought was a great idea. He waved Ginger over to him.  </p><p>“I saw something once in a Latin dance, about foreheads touching. Could you do something like THIS?” He gestured to Ginger to move forehead to forehead with him.  It was awkward, leaning in like that, but after a few moments, Ginger got the hang of it and they were dancing around in this strangely intimate fashion.  </p><p>Fred watched Hermes and Ginger dance and liked what he saw. First off, Hermes had talent. His steps were light and sure, and she had no problem following him. Second, Fred admitted to himself that he really liked the idea of being that close to Ginger’s face. It was incredibly sexy. In fact, the whole dance was seductive and sensual. It was time to make his chemistry with Ginger an asset instead of a liability. Their natural attraction to one another ought to put just the right spin on it. After all, it didn’t say anything in the script about what type of relationship their characters had.  It was entirely up to them how they interpreted it. It was a great opportunity to make an impression. This forehead thing had potential.</p><p>“I like it!  We’ll use it.” Fred beamed at both of them.</p><p>Hermes hurried back to the piano bench. Setting up the record, he continued to play the music while Fred and Ginger worked out the forehead dancing.  It was stilted and stop and go, but it looked good.  They were all laughing a bit about how they had to do it carefully so as not to rip off Fred’s hair piece, when the stage door opened, and Thorne and a bunch of business-like men in suits strolled into the soundstage.  </p><p>Hermes wondered if he should stop the music, but Fred gestured for him to keep it rolling.  He and Ginger continued to dance while the executives huddled on the edge of the stage.  After ten minutes of dancing and watching the suits give them the once over, he stopped and told everyone to take ten.</p><p>“So, Thorne, what do you think?” Fred was curious. He also wanted to know who all these men were who were interrupting his rehearsal session. He hated to be interrupted. </p><p>“Oh, these gentlemen from the administration end of thing wanted to swing by and see how things were coming along.”</p><p>“Oh, it’s fine, just fine.” Fred replied, putting his hands on his hips. He noticed that Ginger looked distrustful and had moved to stand next to Hermes.</p><p>“Well, don’t knock yourself out too much with the dance, it’s only two minutes. We already know that you can dance, and Ginger just has to look pretty.” One of the men said this and the rest of them laughed appreciatively.</p><p>Those were fighting words to Fred, waving a red flag in front of his nose. How dare this group of stuffed shirts tell him what was good and what wasn’t, and they had no right whatsoever to make disparaging remarks about Ginger. A red flush rose on his face and he casually walked over to the group. Only Thorne saw the warning signs, and he smothered a grin.</p><p>“Do any of you have any dancing experience?” he asked frostily.</p><p>The suits laughed. “No, not my thing.” </p><p>“Well, it’s mine. I’ve been hired to dance in this film and that’s just what I’m going to do. I would appreciate it if you gentlemen would Get. Off. My. Stage.” He said it politely, but the flash of anger in his hazel eyes brooked no argument from any of them. Suddenly Fred’s 5 foot 9 inch height seemed much taller.</p><p>Thorne made polite noises and ushered the astonished, possibly offended, group out of the sound stage. After the door was closed, he returned.</p><p>“I’m sorry about that, Fred.” He apologized and stood there awkwardly.  No one on stage breathed.</p><p>Fred stepped up right in front of him.  </p><p>“I don’t appreciate producers butting in where they don’t belong. They don’t dance, nor do they know anything about dance, therefore they don’t need to have input into what I do or whom I do it with, and that includes Ginger. I’ll be calling Production President, Merian Cooper, later. He brought me all the way from Broadway to dance here, and by god, I’m gonna dance.” The anger was coming off of him in waves. Ginger, Dave and Hermes were glad that it wasn’t directed at them. None had seen Fred lose his temper before. </p><p>Thorne shuffled his feet and looked at his toes.</p><p>“You’re right. How about this, Fred,” he entreated after a moment. “We make this a closed set. If they have a problem with it, then they can apply to Mr. Cooper.”</p><p>Fred considered, his face gradually losing its furious red color and returning to normal. He pressed on, hitting while the iron was hot.</p><p>“Okay, that sounds fine. I don’t want interruptions. Only the people I say are allowed.”</p><p> Thorne nodded agreement.</p><p>“And I want a security guard posted out there. No one gets in or out without my permission.”</p><p>“You’ve got it, Fred.”</p><p>Thorne left and Fred turned around towards Ginger and Hermes.  He winked at them and they let out a relieved laugh. “See, I told you my acting was improving.”</p><p> </p><p>********************************</p><p>Fred could hear the doorbell ring from where he was upstairs packing. The flight to Rio di Janiero was first thing in the morning, and he had only just now started deciding what to bring. He didn’t like waiting until the last minute to do things, but he had to wait until Phyllis finished the laundry.  Now it was eight in the evening, and clothes and shoes were all over the bedroom.  Very few things were actually in the suitcase. Breaking out in a sweat, he suddenly wondered where he had last placed his passport. </p><p>“Hey, Phyllis, could you grab that?”</p><p>After a moment, it rang again. Apparently, his wife was elsewhere, so Fred abandoned his half packed suitcase and trotted down the stairs from their room to the living room. The soft carpet gave way to hardwood floors just in the entry hallway. He could hear the click of her shoes suddenly, but he was almost there anyway.</p><p>He opened the door and a smiling Production Assistant from the show stood on his doorstep.  He stepped into the warmth of the home after the drive in the cool evening and rubbed his arms. His breath hung in the cool air.</p><p>“Tom, come in, come in.” Fred ushered him into the foyer quickly so he could shut the door.</p><p>Tom did so and dug through the messenger bag that he carried under his arm. </p><p>“Mr. Astaire, the production office published a new script this morning. They asked me to tell you that there’s some dialog changes on the yellow pages.” Script revisions were always published on different color pages – first blue, then pink, then yellow etc. By the time a movie was finished shooting generally, the script was a multicolor collection of pages bound between the copper brads. </p><p>“Thank you, Tom. I’ll take a look.” </p><p>Phyllis entered the hallway behind Fred.</p><p>“Oh, you got the door.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Tom looked at Fred with a bit of hero worship. “I saw you and Miss Rogers dancing the other day and it was the most amazing thing,” he gushed. “Everyone was talking about it. I don’t know how you do it, but it was the most romantic thing we’ve ever seen. We all thought maybe we should take dancing lessons if it gets the girls like that!” </p><p>As Tom talked, Fred nodded politely and inwardly begged the boy to shut up. It was to no avail. Tom kept yapping.</p><p>“I sure wish I was going to Rio to see the big dance scene, in the club. Jamie, the other PA, says that the Carioca is going to be so amazing that it’s going to make you both stars. Well, goodbye, Mr. Astaire, and good luck. Have fun in Rio!”</p><p>Fred walked the talkative crew member out the front door and turned to Phyllis.</p><p>“Most romantic thing, huh?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him expectantly.</p><p>“Well, it’s just the dance, you see,” Fred apologized, stepping closer. “The boy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”</p><p>“Maybe he does and maybe he doesn’t, but I don’t like the sound of “everyone is talking about it” either, Fred. You have ONE skill, and that’s dancing. If you jeopardize that, we’re all sunk, Fred.”</p><p>“Oh, honey, don’t worry,” he said, rubbing her arms. “It’s just a movie.”</p><p>He wasn’t sure if Phyllis believed him. He wasn’t sure that he believed himself.  He hastily excused himself to continue packing. The boy was more right than he knew, and Fred wondered for the thousandth time what he’d gotten himself in to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Flying Down to Rio" was shot entirely on the soundstages at RKO, but I've taken some liberties.  Oh, liberties were taken!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Rio de Janiero</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sheer dresses, hot Latin music and the Carioca cause Fred and Ginger to lose their minds.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh my god, I can’t wait to sleep.” Ginger flung open her hotel room door. Warm tropical sunlight brightened the pleasant room, and a crisp salty sea breeze fluttered the curtains on the big window. The room was small but the whitewashed walls, simple but sumptuous bedding and solid wood furniture was exactly to her liking. The Copacobana Palace Hotel prided itself on being the most luxurious hotel in Rio and it was going to be her home away from home for the next week. Right now, she just hoped the bed was comfortable; she’d leave exploring for tomorrow. She lugged her heavy suitcases in and returned to the hall where Fred was fiddling with his key to the room next door and having trouble. Hermes was behind him, hovering over his shoulder and swaying slightly, nearly asleep on his feet.</p>
<p>“Here, Fred, let me try,” she took the key from him as he glowered at the lock with bleary red eyes.  </p>
<p>They were all exhausted from the flight from Los Angeles to Rio de Janiero, with stops and changes of planes in Cuba, Guatemala, and Sao Paulo. It had been a very long trip. Brazil looked amazing from the air, but no one on the cast or crew would muster energy tonight to do anything but sleep off the jet lag until tomorrow. Ginger turned the key, and it opened easily.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what the problem was,” Fred grumped, knowing perfectly well what the problem was. He had spent the flights mostly talking with Hermes instead of sleeping or reading, which is how Ginger had spent most of the trip, though she’d also won  four games of backgammon before her challengers called it quits. </p>
<p>The men dragged in their suitcases to the room that they would be sharing. Hermes toed off his shoes, fell face first onto one of the beds and was immediately snoring. Fred wandered the room, looking in every nook and cranny in mild curiosity. He and Hermes had spent the entire flight talking and had decided to share Fred’s double room. Ginger watched Hermes sleep fondly, glad that he and Fred were becoming friends. They actually had a lot in common, not the least of which was that they danced in a very similar fashion. Fred tried opening the closet door. When his jaw fell open, Ginger stood behind him and saw why he was gaping. It wasn’t a closet. They had adjoining rooms.</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s unexpected,” Fred said.</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s convenient,” Ginger said, at the same time.  </p>
<p>Fred glanced at her sharply, but she just looked sleepy. A huge yawn cracked her face and she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.</p>
<p>“Good night, Freddie.” She stumbled through the open door, looking nothing like the graceful dancer he knew she was. Fred followed.</p>
<p>“Oh, I like your view better,” he said. His room had the top fringe of a huge palm tree directly in the center of the window, so that it blocked the view in most directions except directly out to sea. Her room had a fantastic view of the curved expanse of beach that Rio was famous for and the promenade that hugged its edges. They were on the fourth floor and could see for miles.</p>
<p>She sat and untied her sandals and kicked them towards the dresser, out of the way. Like Hermes, she didn’t even bother with getting undressed. She was wearing light linen slacks and a cotton shirt, perfect for traveling and the warm South American weather, and she laid back with a contented sigh. Fred covered her with the light blanket folded at the foot of the bed and watched her settle. Swaying with exhaustion, he snuggled in behind her, and they were both asleep in seconds.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*********************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hermes’ urgent whisper woke him up.  </p>
<p>“HEY, GET UP,” he hissed in Fred’s ear. A hard poke to his ribs followed. He jerked awake and saw Hermes in the dark before dawn with a finger on his lips.</p>
<p>“Shhhh! Don’t wake her up,” he gestured for Fred to leave silently.</p>
<p>He blinked his eyes a few times, chasing away some of the fog of sleep. His arm was draped over Ginger’s warm sleeping form and he was still spooned behind her. Apparently neither had moved since they’d fallen asleep. Shocked to realize that he’d just spent the night with her, he placed a whisper-light kiss on her shoulder, reluctantly moved off the bed and tiptoed out behind Hermes, closing the door behind them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>****************************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Neither Fred nor Hermes knew that Ginger was pretending to sleep. She’d woken up a while ago and was content to lie there quietly enjoying Fred wrapped around her like an octopus. She missed those days in New York when they would have crazy sex and then fall asleep snuggling just like this. So, instead of being outraged that he had not gone to his own room, she savored his arm tucked around her, his warm body pressed against hers and his hot breath on the back of her neck. Now that he was married, it would be the last time that they would ever get to do that. Colder now, she worked her way under the bedcovers. Sighing regretfully, she slipped back to sleep.</p>
<p>************************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The temporary dressing rooms set up in a corner of the club room was cramped with racks of clothing and hot overhead lights as Ginger and the wardrobe assistant taped down the edges of her revealing sheer black dress to her cleavage. The neckline dipped nearly to her belly button and she was waffling between trepidation and exhilaration. Exhilaration because it was a beautiful dress, and trepidation because it left exactly nothing to the imagination. She wondered which executive had seen this dress in the studio wardrobe department and thought it would be perfect for her. It was probably the one who had said that she just needed to look pretty while dancing. Well, there was nothing to be done but make the best of it. If she had to wear something this revealing, then she would play it for all it was worth. </p>
<p>She was singing the song “Music Makes Me” in this scene, with Gene as the bandleader and Fred behind her playing instruments with the band. She could just imagine the view they would have with the set lights on her front side. She would be completely backlit in a see-through dress for everyone behind her to ogle. It didn’t help that the song lyrics were “In me you see a sinner, and dancing is my crime. Seems a sin I’ve got to give in to syncopated time. It makes me lose my dignity, it makes me lose my poise…” and that she would do a suggestive, wiggling dance to the lyrics.</p>
<p>She snorted to herself and hoped the wardrobe woman didn’t hear it. Losing dignity, possibly. Poise? Never.</p>
<p>Gene and Fred were already on stage with the band warming up when she stepped out of the dressing room and walked up to the table she was to be sitting. As she had anticipated, the eyes of every man on stage, and most of the crew followed her, and conversations stopped mid-sentence. She repeated to herself that this film was a step in the right direction for her career and if this is what she had to do to get to where she wanted to be, then she’d do it and do it well. Besides, she was 100% certain that Fred and Hermes, at least, would defend her honor if anyone got fresh with her.</p>
<p>The director, Thorne, stepped up to the stage and motioned for quiet.</p>
<p>“All right let’s take it from the top. To your marks and let’s go.” Everyone got into position or got out of the way. </p>
<p>“Quiet on the set!” the first Assistant Director yelled, and silence fell immediately. “Roll film.”</p>
<p>“Action!” Thorne called and the band started playing the tune. Ginger got up from the table, briefly snagged her dress on the table leg and strutted to the microphone. From looking at her, no one would guess that she had butterflies in her stomach. </p>
<p>They disappeared as she started to sing. She’d been singing since childhood and her time on the Vaudeville circuit, but she’d gotten some professional coaching at RKO, and the improvement in the quality of her singing voice was marked. She enjoyed singing even more now. She belted out the tune, ignoring the whispered comments of the boys in the band behind her. For an instant, she wished that the audio recording equipment could pick up the sounds and get them into trouble for their lewd comments. She completed the song and Thorne yelled, “Cut.”</p>
<p>Turning around, she put her hands on her hips and surveyed the band members behind her.</p>
<p>“You know, I can hear you.  And I don’t appreciate the comments.”</p>
<p>Fred and Gene looked at each other in surprise. They had been giggling, true, but they hadn’t heard anything else. Their attention had completely been on Ginger. Fred, utterly appalled, stood up and started each man down, his jovial nature completely gone. They looked repentant, if for no other reason than they knew that he had the power to fire them instantly. </p>
<p>“Miss Rogers, are you ready to go again?” Thorne asked, walking up towards them from his place behind the camera thirty feet away. It was apparent that he had not heard anything.</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m good,” she replied, giving Fred a thankful look.</p>
<p>“Alright, places everyone. Going again from the top.” </p>
<p>He clapped his hands and the camera moved back to its original place, Ginger sat at her table and they went through the song another three times. This scene was the last scene of the day to be shot, as it was going to be the most complicated, with the band involved. It was getting late and everyone was beginning to drag a little with continued jet lag. Nearly everyone who didn’t have to be there had disappeared by now. Hermes was the only crew member who wasn’t required to be on set, and he was specifically there to cheer on Ginger.</p>
<p>They ran through the scene again, and while the smiles were there this time behind her, the lewd comments had ceased. </p>
<p>“Okay, print the first and fourth takes. We’re done here. That’s a wrap for tonight folks.”</p>
<p>The band cheered and began packing up their instruments. One of the band men came over and apologized quietly to Fred on behalf of the others. As Ginger moved towards the dressing room, she noticed that they hadn’t apologized to HER. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>********************************* </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You really nailed the song this afternoon,” Fred said as they sat at dinner an hour later. One of the hotel dining rooms had been reserved for the film crew and cast, and nearly everyone had already eaten. Only a few scattered groups and singles from the crew were still eating, and none of the other cast members.  </p>
<p>“Thanks,” Ginger replied. She took a last bite of her chicken and cream cheese empanada and wished for more, but she was pretty full, having tried a bite of everything in the buffet. The Brazilian foods she had tried so far had all been incredible. She was looking forward to having some free time and dragging Hermes or Fred into town to eat at every snack shack they passed. On second thought, maybe just Hermes. Fred ate like a bird and didn’t seem to enjoy food the way she and Hermes did.  </p>
<p>“By the way, I talked to the boys. No one will ever disrespect you like that again.” Fred said as he picked at the food on his plate.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Freddie. I appreciate that.”</p>
<p>“Though that dress was pretty amazing,” Fred just couldn’t help adding,” what little there was of it.”</p>
<p>The admiration in his voice and his appreciative nod made her warm inside. Ginger didn’t mind that he thought the dress was nice. After all, he’d seen her in far less and in nothing at all.</p>
<p>On the other side of Fred, Hermes nodded in agreement.</p>
<p>“Oh, like you care about a girl in a dress, Hermes.” </p>
<p>“I’m gay, not blind, sweetheart,” he replied, sniffing mock contemptuously. “I can appreciate without partaking, thanks.” Ginger loved his sense of humor. Fred apparently did also, as he chortled through a mouthful of salad.</p>
<p>As they finished up their late dinner, a locally hired Production Assistant came by their table and dropped off a Call Sheet for each of them. Each piece of paper held all the information for the next day – what scenes they were shooting, when they were needed in makeup and wardrobe and what time they were to shoot.</p>
<p>“Rehearsals start tomorrow for the Carioca scene!” Fred rubbed his hands together in glee. Ginger knew that he would be happy about it now, worried about it by tonight and a wreck of nerves tomorrow when he choreographed it all. They would do several run throughs, and shoot it the following day, Day 5 of their six day location shoot. It was going to be two long days of work. A good nights’ sleep would do a world of good.</p>
<p>“Yep. It’s going to be fun! However, I’m going to bed now.” Hermes and Fred looked at her in surprise. “And I suggest you gentlemen do the same.”</p>
<p>Fred and Hermes recognized the wisdom of that statement, though they looked rebellious.</p>
<p>“In your own room…” she whispered in Fred’s ear, but loud enough so that Hermes heard it.</p>
<p>With that, Ginger curtsied to them and left, taking several cookies with her.</p>
<p>Fred covered his face in dismay. Hermes howled with laughter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>********************************* </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rehearsals for the Carioca numbers, both the large group dance, and the Fred and Ginger dance had gone smoothly yesterday.  It had been a surprisingly mellow day when everything went right.<br/>
</p><p>Today, a wild, riotous energy pervaded the set, and the energy was completely different. Background actors and dancers wore colorful costumes with fancy hairdo’s and the cast were all in their own equally festive costumes. Almost all of the dancing scenes were completed in the first eight hours, and as the day dragged on, many of those local dancers chose to stay and watch Fred and Ginger dance their version of the Carioca. As dancers themselves, they were curious about these two little white North Americans who presumed to dance the version of a carioca-samba that their hometown Rio was famous for. They had seen them yesterday, but it had been choppy, working with the Brazilian band for the first time and stop and go rehearsal dancing. It hadn’t looked like much, but they were still curious and with nothing better to do, they stayed on. Thorne had already shot Fred and Ginger’s conversation at the table, and the air swirled with invisible eddies of energy and anticipation. Fred judged that there were nearly a hundred and fifty people jammed into the room to watch.</p>
<p>“Fred? Ginger? You ready?” Thorne called out.  They both nodded. “All right, we’re ready to go!” he shouted, and everyone got into their places.  </p>
<p>Seated behind him, Hermes crossed his fingers. He could see that Fred was nervous – he was taking deep, calming breaths, and wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. He looked like he might throw up, actually. Ginger, on the other hand, didn’t look nervous at all. She was laughing with the other “band members” at their table. However, now that Thorne was ready, she effortlessly got into character. She and Fred dashed down to a marked spot two yards from their entry point to the upper part of the dance floor, ready to enter the scene at a jog.</p>
<p>“Quiet on the set!” the First AD yelled. “We are rolling!” Film wound through the camera, capturing the scene forever.</p>
<p>“And… action!” Thorne hollered.  The band started up and the dance partners got their instructions to go on.</p>
<p>Ginger dashed onto the set next to the Brazilian band director, dragging Fred behind her. The band played enthusiastically as Ginger grabbed Fred’s shoulders and pulled him into the “spontaneous” dance. Fred had decided early on in rehearsals that if this was going to be his one and only opportunity to dance with Ginger onscreen, then he was going to give it everything within him. That girl in New York getting her first dance lesson from him in the foyer of the Alvin Theatre had come a long way in such a short time. She deserved a memorable dance. They took a few steps back and forth, with Fred looking at the audience as this ran through his mind. He refocused quickly on Ginger and gave her his full attention.</p>
<p> An incredulous smile broke over his face. Hermes gasped as Fred dissolved into the dance as if a switch had suddenly been flipped. He snapped into the movements with gusto and pulled Ginger in so closely to his body that Hermes wasn’t sure how they could even move. But move they did, as if they were one person, and swirled along the upper floor for a few bars of music, bodies nearly completely pressed together, flowing to the beat. </p>
<p>When the band director invited them onto the actual dance floor on the lower level, they broke apart briefly, but then they were dancing, swirling around the floor to the hot Latin music once again. Joyfully, they stomped into the number, joined foreheads, and rotated around one another with huge smiles. Fred’s black suit looked dramatic against the white stage and bright tile, but it was Ginger’s form fitting silk black gown with a deep neckline and heavy ruffled hemline that billowed out around them that captured the lively, passionate feeling the carioca was meant to impart. Weights sewn into the hemline created a swirl of black fabric revealing Ginger’s slim dancer’s legs as Fred twirled her around. Even from where he was sitting, he could feel their chemistry explode across the set. Suddenly Hermes understood the meaning of the term “bedroom eyes” as Fred moved in on Ginger, seduction oozing from every pore and she answered with a “come hither” look. Fred held her tight against him, then lifted Ginger and tossed her around as if she weighed nothing, and she swirled around him repeatedly, always returning to his arms as if their heartstrings were connected. Passion radiated from their enthusiastic embrace in nearly palatable waves. Gleefully and openly, their fancy footwork became a dance of seduction. Contagious smiles lit their faces and Hermes knew he was grinning like a fool, mirroring their elation. Their feet tapped out the sultry beat with perfect timing and consummate skill. The finale of the dance was a silly intrusion where they accidently knock their foreheads together and appear dazed. He smothered his giggle as his friends acted woozy, missing their connections but finally pulled it together for one last provocative twirl around the dance floor. Their chemistry was undeniable and on full display.</p>
<p>The band let the melody linger for a moment and finished with a flourish.  All around Hermes, the stage erupted into cheers, even before Thorne yelled, “Cut!” All the background dancers jumped to their feet to cheer the skinny white dancers who had just proven themselves beyond a shadow of a doubt. Without knowing how, Hermes was on his feet, cheering with everyone else.  On stage, Fred and Ginger clasped hands and took a bow to the crew, then to the band and then to each other.</p>
<p>Hermes raced to the stage to quickly shake their hands before they got carried away, and Thorne appeared, saying that he wanted to do one more take, just to make sure that they got it. Hermes had never seen either of his friends so elated. They were glowing. They eventually did a second take of the dance, a security measure only, but Hermes would bet his life savings that the editor would lobby for the first take. It was only two minutes of dancing, but Hermes knew that it had been something special. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>***********************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whew, what a day,” Ginger said as they walked hand in hand from the elevator down the empty hallway to their doors.  </p>
<p>“You’re telling me!” Fred replied. His face actually hurt from smiling. The big dance number was in the can, his carioca with Ginger had been fantastic and his work on the film had been a success. It had been a lot of hard work, and worry, and he was very satisfied with the end result. Today had been one of the best days of his life.</p>
<p>Ginger knew she had a silly smile plastered on her face. She still couldn’t believe that the background dancers and crew had given them a standing ovation. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard of something like that happening before. Thorne had given them the news that he had called Merian Cooper and given him a heads-up that the studio had something special in Fred and Ginger, and she was giddy with excitement even hours later at what that might mean for her career, possibly a career that might include more dancing with Fred.  </p>
<p>Fred let go of Ginger’s hand to find his room key in his pocket, while she rummaged in her purse for her own. </p>
<p>“Hey,” he said, “You did good today, baby.”  </p>
<p>“Thanks, old man,” she answered. “So, did you. You were amazing.” She couldn’t help the secret smile that was only for him.</p>
<p>Ginger held her breath as he stepped closer. She could still feel the passionate echo of their dancing thrumming through her blood and was sure he felt the same. She let him sweep her into a huge hug, pulling her as close as he had during the dance. She held on to him tightly, running her hand down the hard muscles in his back beneath his shirt and at the same, one of his hands was on her waist and the other tangled in her hair. She leaned into him and inhaled his scent, sweaty and masculine. </p>
<p>Neither of them heard the elevator bell chime behind them.</p>
<p>After a big squeeze, he let her go and stepped away, but his hands lingered on her waist, clearly reluctant to let her go. His soft hazel eyes sparkled as he caught her brilliant blues, and she inhaled softly as he closed the distance between them. His eyes slid to her lips and she reached out for him.</p>
<p>Out of the blue, two strong hands knocked their foreheads together, hard. Ginger rubbed her head and Fred did the same, and suddenly Hermes was there. He grabbed Fred by the shoulders and manhandled him towards their room, saying “Good night, Ginger! You were awesome today!” and before Ginger could say another word or gather her wits, the door was closed, and she was alone in the hallway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*************************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hermes kicked their door shut and frog-marched Fred into the room. “What the hell are you thinking, Fred?” he whispered fiercely.</p>
<p>Fred blinked and tried to process the information through his new headache. The only things that had existed for the last few hours were Ginger and dancing. Frankly, he had forgotten that he was married. Absolutely and completely forgotten; and therefore, had also forgotten that he should not be thinking of kissing Ginger. He took a deep shuddering breath and came down from his dance high abruptly, crashing back to reality.</p>
<p>He stared at Hermes for a moment, fully back in his own head, out of the zone. The concern in his friend’s eye stopped him from saying something regretful in response to being interrupted. The anger drained from his face and his shoulders slumped in misery.</p>
<p>“I’m taking a shower,” he said, and detoured into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.</p>
<p>“Make it a cold one!” Hermes scolded, but not unkindly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>**********************************</p>
<p>Ginger closed her door and leaned back on it in the semi-darkness. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute. Fred had been just about to kiss her, and Hermes had saved them both from something embarrassing and potentially problematic. Still, a large part of her was resentful about the interruption. His strong dancers’ body pressed to hers made her weak in the knees still, and all those feelings from before returned with a vengeance. She chided herself as she stripped off her clothing and slipped on her nightgown. Her body thrummed with pent up desire.</p>
<p>Fully intending to think of Lew, she pleasured herself until she was spent, but the image in her mind morphed into Fred before she was done and she pulled the covers over hear head, utterly exhausted from the events of the busy day, with tears in her eyes and confusion in her heart.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Last Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Who would have guessed a sunburn could turn the course of your life?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thorne raised his glass in a final toast and Ginger sighed in relief. The brunch for the entire cast and the department heads had dragged on for longer than she thought was possible and she was so ready to get out of there. The champagne poured forth and the rest of the cast and crew laughed and wished one another well on their next movies, but she was just ready to leave. She smiled politely and made all the appropriate comments but the ending of the film brought a wistful sadness to her heart. Even the view out of the floor to ceiling windows revealing the brilliant aquamarine of the pool couldn’t make her smile. Inebriated people always made her tense, and half of the people there were on their way to getting sloshed even though it was before noon. Combined with the fact that her time with Fred was coming to an end, she was uncomfortable and ready to escape.</p>
<p>“And thank you all for a wonderful filming experience!” Thorne concluded.  The cheers rocked the golden chandeliers dangling from their chains on the ceiling of the dining room. </p>
<p>Ginger set her fork down on her empty plate and placed her folded cloth napkin beside it on the maroon tablecloth. They hotel staff had pulled several tables together to form two parallel lines of tables.  The cast and crew sat mingled together.</p>
<p>Next to her, Dolores noticed her pensiveness, so out of character for the younger woman. “Say Ginger, have you been to the beach yet?”</p>
<p>Surprised, Ginger shook her head. </p>
<p>“Would you like to join me?  I’m heading down there in an hour or so. I want a tan to take back to Los Angeles!” she raised her eyebrows, and waited for her reply.</p>
<p>Dolores was a friendly sort, but she was extremely popular with everyone on the cast and crew and hadn’t shown any preference for Ginger’s company up to now.  She was flattered. First, though, she looked to Fred and Hermes.</p>
<p>“We had plans to go the horse races! They have a world famous race track here that Fred has to visit. You’re both welcome to come if you want?” Hermes invited the and Fred sipped his orange juice on the other side of him. It had been a little awkward this morning as the three came to breakfast, though no one brought up the resounding head smack Hermes had delivered. </p>
<p>“No thank you, boys.” Ginger said, and smiled in relief at Dolores’ offer. “I would love to. Though I tend to burn.”</p>
<p>“Bring sunscreen and let’s go!” Dolores kept her thoughts to herself, recognizing the signs of a budding affair. Sometimes movie romances flourished but they usually crashed and burned.  She found herself hoping these two kids made it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>*******************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The insistent knocking on her door woke her from deep sleep. Reluctantly throwing the covers aside, Ginger stumbled over to answer the door.</p>
<p>“Who is it?” she grumbled, still sleepy.  From the look out the window, though, she could see that it was only early evening and she’d slept for several hours after returning from the beach. </p>
<p>“It’s me!” said Fred’s voice.</p>
<p>“And me!” chimed in Hermes.<br/>
</p>
<p>She opened the door and waved the men inside. She only then notice how sunburnt she was. It stung.</p>
<p>“Ouch!”</p>
<p>“What’s ouch?” Fred asked, instantly concerned. </p>
<p>“Oh, Dolores and I went to sit on the beach, and I got more sun than I intended.” She pulled back the collar of her shirt to reveal tender, bright pink skin. Both men made sympathetic noises.</p>
<p>“Maybe the hotel has some aloe vera,” Hermes said, walking immediately to the phone in her room and putting a call in to the concierge. His concern was touching.</p>
<p>Fred’s concern was also touching, but less helpful. He poked her on the closest red shoulder.</p>
<p>“Ouch!” Ginger jumped, glared at Fred, and moved a few feet away. “What did you do that for?”</p>
<p>He poked her again playfully, delighting in her mock outrage. She grabbed for his offending fingers, as he continued to try to find a way to poke her and continued to slap his hands away from her raw, stinging shoulders and back. </p>
<p>"Ouch!  Fred stop it, I mean it.”</p>
<p>A wicked grin crept onto his face. </p>
<p>“Hermes, help me!” Ginger squealed and leapt behind Hermes, grabbing his arms, and holding him in front of her as a shield.</p>
<p>
“Oh, god, leave me out of this.” Hermes groaned. Ginger wrapped her arms around his waist and tugged him back until she was against the wall. Fred advanced on them both anyway, eyes full of mischief.<br/>
</p>
<p>“Okay, stop, both of you,” Hermes tried again, holding off his hands to ward off Fred and trying not to press Ginger into the wall and hurt her sunburn more. A knocking on the door rescued him.</p>
<p>Fred retreated and yanked open the door to a messenger from the hotel management holding a huge jar of aloe vera gel. Tipping the boy, he took it and gestured for Ginger to come out from behind her rescuer.</p>
<p>“I won’t poke you anymore, I promise.”</p>
<p>“Promise?”</p>
<p>“Yes, sweetheart.” He gestured her over to him and she did.  Fred unscrewed the jar and poked a finger into the sloppy green gel. “Oh, yuck.”</p>
<p>“That yuck looks fabulous. Ummm…” she peered over at the container in his hands and hesitated. It would not be appropriate to ask Fred to apply it to her sunburn, as she would have to remove her shirt to reach all the tender places. She did not want the skin to peel, nor was she feeling comfortable enough right now to be half dressed with Fred. The temptations were too great. “Hermes, can you help me with this?”</p>
<p>Fred nodded, and the polite mask that he wore to cover his real feelings slid over his features. She recognized that look all too well. He handed the jar to Hermes and stepped out of the room. With a resigned sigh, Hermes carefully assisted her with smearing aloe vera all over her sunburned top half in silence. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>**************************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Emerging from her room a few minutes later, she had put on a top that most carefully matched her burnt skin, so as to avoid irritating most of it. The lovely sky blue fabric perfectly matched her eyes, with a swath of fabric in front, and a deep revealing back that showed just how far down her sunburn went. She’d paired it with a black skirt and a long strand of black pearls to tie it together. </p>
<p>“So, how was your day at the races?” She asked the question to Fred.  He and Hermes had spent the morning at the gigantic Hipodromo da Gavea racetrack. When they had dated in New York, he had revealed a love of horseracing and of course he would want to see one of the crown jewels of Rio. She liked horses, but she liked to ride them, not watch them. Spending the day on the sunny tropical beach with Delores had been much more appealing to her.</p>
<p>“It was great! I did okay with my bets,” Fred’s eyes grew wide and his voice climbed half an octave. “I won a hundred bucks!”  </p>
<p>That was a lot of money to win on the horse races. It gave Ginger ideas. “Oh, good, then dinner tonight is your treat.”</p>
<p>Hermes chuckled at the stricken look on his face, “Well, you walked into that one, Fred.”</p>
<p>“I’m fine with that,” despite himself, he began to smile, his good humor restored.  Money didn’t mean much to him; it was a tool to be used. “Where do you want to go?  We really haven’t been out much.”<br/>
</p>
<p>Hermes lit up. “I was able to go explore several times. There’s a street a few blocks away that is lined with restaurants and shops. It’s a likely spot if there ever was one.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>****************************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The streetlamps were just being lit as the three walked down the beach promenade from the Copacobana Hotel to the area Hermes suggested. A warm, sultry ocean breeze cooled off the city from the heat of the day, and they could hear samba music in the direction they were heading. Fred knew that they were missing the Grand Carnivale Ball by five months, but it was possible that smaller street festivals were celebrated at different times of the year. The residents of the city didn’t seem to need much of an excuse to celebrate. He hoped that it wouldn’t get too out of hand, as the revelries originally were dedicated to Dionysus or Bacchus, the Greek god of the grape-harvest.</p>
<p>The restaurant that Hermes had in mind was full, and the wait time for a table was an hour. After a brief consultation amongst themselves, they continued walking the street. Finding street vendors selling all manner of snacks and hand-held foods, they purchased several goodies and nibbled while they walked.  The street got busier and samba bands set up on the sidewalks began to compete for audiences, lively music filled the air, and costumed people became the norm the further in they traveled.  </p>
<p>Running in to a group of costumed celebrants, Ginger came face to face with a woman in an elaborate feathered mask. With a shriek of delight, the woman whisked it off and Ginger recognized her as one of their background dancers from the carioca dances. At her exclamation, the others removed their masks, too, and suddenly the three were surrounded by familiar dancers. A woman dragged Hermes away and started dancing, and then Ginger, too was whisked away in the arms of a strong, dark man who wore a sparkling red mask, no shirt and leather pants whom she recognized from the movie set. Giggling shyly at first, she was soon caught up in the dance. Fred allowed another woman to put a rather plain blue mask on him but declined to dance with the dozen women who immediately asked.  </p>
<p>Fred told himself that he was just keeping an eye on his dancing partner to make sure she didn’t disappear into the crowd, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Ginger as she shimmied in the street with the young man. They moved together suggestively to the hot Latin music and she looked like she was having the time of her life, as he spun her around, then leaned in close, matching her footwork.  Fred leaned against the cool wall of a building and tried to blend in with the scenery, while keeping her in sight at all times. </p>
<p>He didn’t see who it did, but suddenly Ginger had been gifted her own mask. Her strawberry blond hair stood out from the black feathers and sequins of her mask, and her brilliant blue eyes seemed to glow in the darkened street. Those amazing eyes caught his over the crowd, and she didn’t look away.</p>
<p>Fred couldn’t look away, either. She left the young man and made her way over to him, dancing the whole while, her hips moving in sinuous time with the samba rhythm, arms stretched overhead, swaying to the beat. A few feet away from him now, at the edge of the group of costumed dancers, she gestured to him. He refused, shaking his head, and putting up a hand in protest. She stood in front of him, her face alight with joy, and Fred knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She held out her hand expectantly and again, more insistently this time, kinked her finger at him to join her. There was no sense in resisting. He grabbed her hand and yelled, “Whee!” and let her drag him into the street.</p>
<p>Fred let the music carry them away. Finding some freedom behind the anonymity of his mask, his moves were much more evocative than his usual style of proper ballroom dancing, his hips swinging in the same provocative fashion as hers now, their bodies close together. Their dancer acquaintances challenged them to more and more outrageous moves, and the dance escalated in intensity. He made a deliberate choice to surrender to the music and the moment. Their laughter filled the air and joined the chaos in motion in the throng. Together, they danced the carioca on the wild streets of Rio, oblivious to anyone but the other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>****************************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hours later, happily exhausted, the trio made their way back to the Copacobana in the early morning hours. They dropped Ginger off at her door and Hermes and Fred entered their room.</p>
<p>“I’m taking the first shower, Hermes!” Fred called, already halfway there. “And then I’m hitting the hay. I’m beat.”</p>
<p>“Hey Fred, wait a minute,” Hermes said, and Fred came back out into the living room. “I’m not staying.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean, you’re not staying?” he was perplexed.</p>
<p>Hermes looked flustered, a blush climbing up his neck to his face. “I’m going back out. I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”</p>
<p>Fred caught the hint. Obviously, someone had caught his friends fancy during the dancing. He really didn’t want to know more. </p>
<p>“You be safe, okay?” Fred slapped him on the back, and Hermes slipped out the front door quietly.</p>
<p>Fred began to head back into the shower when his stomach rumbled. Detouring to the phone, he ordered dinner, even though it was 2am. It was a good thing that the Copacobana was a full-service hotel, he thought, and went to sluice off the sweat and grime of the city.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***********************************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ginger stepped out of the shower, dried off and looked in the mirror at her sunburn. Now that the excitement of the dancing was over, she was tired and her skin stung. In addition, she was starving. All that dancing made her hungry. Wrapping herself in the fluffy bathrobe that the hotel provided, she called room service.</p>
<p>When it arrived a half hour later, she was famished. She accepted the covered platter on the small table in her room and heard the door slam next door. She poked her head out the door just in time to see it shutting and the waiter heading into the elevator in the other direction. After hesitating a moment, she knocked on the door that connected their rooms.</p>
<p>A frowning Fred answered the door.</p>
<p>“Say, what’s the big idea with slamming doors this time of night?” she asked, setting her hand on her hips, and doing her best to scowl.</p>
<p>Fred shrugged while he looked her up and down in her white bathrobe. “My room service dinner is all wrong.” He gestured to the covered platter behind him in frustration.  He didn't like surprises. </p>
<p>“Why, what’s in it?” she asked.</p>
<p>“The little label says that it’s something called “Feijoida”, and it looks like black beans with meat. It smells nice enough, but it’s definitely not the chicken salad that I ordered.”  </p>
<p>Ginger was immediately suspicious. She walked back into her room and lifted the lid. Sure enough, a big chicken salad was on the platter. </p>
<p>“Oh Freddie, they just got the rooms mixed up. Bring that in here and we’ll eat together.” She busied herself with pulling the desk and its chair over to the side of the bed and making a small table out of it. Fred returned moments later with his platter and they exchanged them. She tucked the bathrobe firmly about her and deliberately decided not to get dressed. After all, Fred was very casual in cotton pajama pants and a tee shirt. It was late and there was no need to impress anyone. </p>
<p>She leaned over, “Oh good, they remembered my flan!” </p>
<p>As she did so, her sunburn rubbed against the terrycloth fabric and she winced. She was too hungry to care, though, and inhaled the meal, while Fred ate his salad with a good appetite. Finally, she was reduced to tiny bites of the large flan and Fred had plowed through most of his salad. </p>
<p>“Oh, this is heavenly. I love Rio.” </p>
<p>“This has been a great time, hasn’t it, Ginge?” </p>
<p>She smiled up at him, her blue eyes twinkling. It reminded him of the mask, which he saw she had tossed on the dresser. Her eyes followed his to where it rested.</p>
<p>“Nice dancing tonight, old man.” She couldn’t resist teasing him a little bit. He usually didn’t let himself go like that, and his passionate moves had surprised her. Typically, he was much more reserved. They had danced for hours, trying new things, following the crowd, and letting the music move their feet.</p>
<p>“Just trying to keep up with you!” He leaned back in the chair and stretched. “I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time. I think my face hurts again.”</p>
<p>“I've never experienced anything like that! I liked it.”</p>
<p>Ginger gathered up the dirty dishes and set them in the hallway on the trolley provided. Fred tried not to notice that her knee-length bathrobe rode up her legs as she did so. Suddenly realizing that he was in a compromising position – again – he stood up to make a reluctant exit. As he did so, however, Ginger winced again as the door closed. </p>
<p>“What is it, Ginge?” Concern for her overrode his own plans.</p>
<p>She wiggled her shoulders uncomfortably. “My sunburn is killing me now that I let the hot shower water at it. I need more aloe vera.”</p>
<p>He picked up the jar from the dresser top. Turning to her, he saw the realization in her eyes that he was the only one available to dab it on her burn. </p>
<p>“I can wait for Hermes, if you’d like,” she said, giving him an out.  Maybe she was giving herself an out, too.</p>
<p>“Hermes isn’t coming back tonight. He found someone to spend what’s left of the night with.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”  </p>
<p>Furiously debating with herself she waited a full thirty seconds. Fred watched in fascination as a dozen emotions chased each other across her face.</p>
<p>Turning her back to him, she let the bathrobe slide off her shoulders. She held it up with her arms, though, near her waist and held her hands over her breasts, keeping the garment partially on her body as best she could. Fred could see that she was trembling. </p>
<p>He unscrewed the lid and got a big glob of aloe on his pointer finger. Drawing a line down the edge of her sunburn, he painted her back with the cooling gel, using slow, gentle movements. Her skin felt like hot satin under his fingers. Every time he touched her, she flinched and sighed in relief. He had to bite his lip in order to finish her lower back. The burn ended at the base of her spine, and he had an amazing, unintended view of her backside down the loose robe. Finally, her entire back was covered with a thin film.</p>
<p>“Gosh, I wish I’d seen you in this bathing suit.”</p>
<p>Her laugh sounded suspiciously like a sob. She turned her head, and he could see that her eyes were unexpectedly wet with unshed tears. </p>
<p>“Baby, what’s wrong?” Fred asked quietly. </p>
<p>“You know damn well what’s wrong, Fred,” she whispered. “Leave now if you want to. Or stay.  It’s up to you. If you go, I won’t ever bring it up again. I can think of a few dozen reasons why you should leave, and only one why you should stay.”</p>
<p>A slow smile crept over his face. He undressed in the dark room, making no effort to be quiet so that she’d know exactly what he was doing, and left his clothing in a messy pile on the floor.  </p>
<p>“I think you have some burn on your neck. Better let me take care of it.” He scooped up a dab of aloe and stepped around in front of her. </p>
<p>She let the bathrobe drop completely onto the floor.</p>
<p>He dabbed the aloe onto the base of her throat, and when she looked down, as he knew she would, he booped her nose, making her crack a smile. He swabbed the aloe across her neckline and collarbone, and down the edges of where her suit top had been, brushing her nipples with a feather light touch.</p>
<p>“Mmmmm,” she said, twisting away from him. “I have more burn on my legs, by the way.”</p>
<p>She helpfully turned in place, giving Fred an excellent view of her entire naked body. Sure enough, where the bottom of her suit covered her butt, there was a long line of reddening skin down to the back of her knees. </p>
<p>Fred carefully went to his knees, ignoring his erection and surveyed her slim dancer’s legs. Working on one leg at a time, he gently painted her body with the gel. Every gasp and shiver she made thrilled him. His big hands covered in aloe, they slid over her legs, taking care to rub in the gel especially well on the reddest parts across the bottom of her butt where her suit ended. His fingers massaged the soft skin covering the strong muscles and he could barely contain himself from bending her over and taking her right then. Instead, he moved around to her front and daubed some on the red above her knees. Standing up slowly, he kissed a line from the fuzz between her legs to her neck.  Standing before her, he took her hands in his and kissed them.</p>
<p>“Hi,” he whispered. </p>
<p>“Hi, yourself.” Ginger wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, his erection literally coming between them. “You got any more dance in you?”</p>
<p>“What a silly question.” He swung her around and dropped her onto the bed and straddled her.  </p>
<p>Unfortunately, he had forgotten about her sunburn and she yelped, threw him off and sat up. “Fred! I can’t do that. How did you forget! It hurts too much!” She shoved at his legs.</p>
<p>“Oh, god, baby, I’m sorry. That was really stupid.” He jumped to his feet and pulled her up.</p>
<p>"Okay, let's do this again," He grabbed the jar of aloe and held it up expectantly.</p>
<p>"No, it's fine, really," Ginger said, though in truth it stung again. She was just impatient.</p>
<p>"Nope, you come here and we're doing this again," He stood behind her and carefully lifted her curly blond hair off of her neck, revealing her usual porcelain skin with it's newly acquired streaks of red. He took his time painting her back, one dab at a time. He discovered that blowing on it afterwards made her giggle and twist due to the cold. It became a game, but soon enough she was duly covered once more.</p>
<p>He took her hands and led her to the bed. Laying down first, he pulled her on top of him so that she straddled him . The relief on her face made him chuckle.</p>
<p>“Oooh, that’s much nicer. I like this.” She ran her hands up his chest until they were on either side of his head and leaned up to kiss him deeply.  His hands cupped her breasts and twiddled with her nipples until she gasped in his mouth and pulled away. </p>
<p>Sitting up straighter, she maneuvered so he could slide in. Wiggling her hips to adjust to him, she sighed in contentment as he threw back his head and made inarticulate sounds of pleasure. With her strong dancer legs holding him tight, and his hands holding her thighs, she began to move.</p>
<p>“No hurry, baby, we’ve got all night.” If this night was to be their last, he wanted it to last all night. He intended to make this night in Rio one to remember.</p>
<p>“We can sleep on the plane tomorrow …” she said and gave herself to him completely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>******************************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hermes slunk into the hotel as daylight was breaking across the sky. Hurrying to his room, he keyed the lock and tiptoed inside, expecting to find Fred asleep. Instead, he found the open door between the two rooms and the shadowed naked forms of his friends draped around one another in Ginger's room. </p>
<p>He toed off his shoes and set the alarm for ten. He began to close the door and stopped. They might as well know that he knew. In sleep, the two looked utterly at peace. Their bodies curved towards one another.  His hand draped over her stomach, with hers on top of his, their faces inches apart, their legs intertwined, the light sheet tangled between them. The sight left him melancholy and  his heart broke for the both of them. The world was not going to be kind to them.</p>
<p>The world wasn’t kind to anyone who loved differently than was expected. He knew that far too well. He would keep their secret. They deserved whatever joy their union could bring them.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Return to Reality</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>With the movie wrapped, Fred and Ginger return to Los Angeles, holding their secret close to their hearts.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A sudden drop brought Ginger awake with a jolt. All around her the passengers on the plane looked up in alarm or discomfort. Next to her Fred struggled to sit up from where he’d been sleeping.<br/>

</p>
<p>“Ow!” he said and rubbed his head where it had smacked against the window in the turbulence. He grimaced and ran his fingers through his disheveled hair attempting to tame it. The imprint of his jacket he was using as a pillow made creases on his face in a tweed pattern.</p>
<p>Ginger sat up straighter from where she’d been using his shoulder as a pillow and stretched also until her joints popped. Since no one emerged from the cockpit, she assumed it was just a bit of strong turbulence and settled back into her seat. On the other side of her, Hermes had been reading a book, but set it aside now that his seat companions were awake.</p>
<p>“Only four more hours and we should be home.” He said, “traveling sure isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” After three connecting flights, it had been yesterday that they’d left Rio. Add in the time change flying west, and it was going to mess with his sleep schedule something awful. </p>
<p>“You said it,” Ginger replied, yawning hugely, “But Rio did have it’s good points.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Fred snarked quietly, causing her to elbow him in the ribs. </p>
<p>Hermes wanted to be happy for his two friends but had great reservations about this situation that they’d gotten themselves in to. Having known Ginger for five years, she had told him all about her relationship with Fred in New York. It was interesting now having met and gotten to know Fred, to hear his side of the story. Now, being the only other person on the plane who knew that they’d gotten together, he found himself feeling very protective of them. Enough so that he wanted to warn them.</p>
<p>“Hey, you two, this isn’t Rio anymore,” he said quietly, “you’ve got to cool it or there’ll be trouble.”</p>
<p>Ginger and Fred sobered immediately. If the Studio got wind of their hook-up, it might be problematic for their next movie. Fred’s agent had already called him with the news of their next movie deal, another dance musical with Ginger, though she hadn’t heard from hers yet. Contract players were encouraged to create chemistry for their characters, but the film executives definitely did not want scandals. A newly married man having an affair with an old flame would be a definite scandal and might end both their careers just as they were taking off. Moviegoers would enjoy romance between characters, but infidelity between actors on a film would be frowned upon. </p>
<p>“When we get to Los Angeles, Hermes, let me exit first,” Ginger said, thinking ahead. Exiting the plane together to greet his wife and her mother would be a disaster waiting to happen. She adored her mother, but this movie was putting them both under a lot of stress, and this homecoming was one she was not looking forward to. “We’ll have to say our goodbyes on the plane.”</p>
<p>Fred was remembering their enthusiastic goodbyes this morning in her hotel room. After a night of lovemaking and no sleep, they’d packed their suitcases with heavy hearts, sorrowful kisses and lots of lingering touches. He nodded unhappily. </p>
<p>Ginger was equally miserable but hiding it better than Fred. She nodded and yawned again. Fred folded up his jacket and used it as a pillow against the window again, and pulled his hat over his eyes, hiding his face. Hermes settled his head back on the rest and closed his eyes, too. Ginger debated. No one else on the plane was looking at them – the divider wall between First Class and General was behind them. She leaned against Hermes this time to try to nap but dropped her sweater over her hand as she clutched at Fred’s fingers. He replied with a squeeze and wrapped her fingers in his more firmly. Held safely, she drifted into sleep again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***************************************************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The dregs of the cold cup of hot black tea that she had made at home this morning was disgusting, but Ginger swallowed it down anyway. She needed the caffeine to keep going. Adjusting to the time zone back in Los Angeles was tougher than she had imagined it would be, and her eyes felt hot, red and gritty. Her whole body felt sluggish. She felt just like the weather today – cold, dreary, and gray. She missed the summery climate in Rio, but of course there was nothing to be done about that. Being outside seemed to help. Therefore, wrapped up against the blustery weather, she had been doing a lot of walking in Griffith Park with her dog, who was ecstatic that she was home again. Already she missed the camaraderie, but that was part and parcel of being a part of a film crew and just something that you got used to. That it happened frequently didn’t make it any easier, especially if you became very close with your coworkers.</p>
<p>She couldn’t imagine anything closer than what had happened between herself and Fred. She was a mess inside, and all mixed up again. Her heart said one thing and her mind said another, and her body tended to agree with her heart, so it was two against one. Not a fair fight with herself at all. </p>
<p>It wasn’t her only fight, either. Lela had seen straight through her as soon as she’d picked her up at the airport. Sometimes Ginger wondered if her mother had mental telepathy, since she had done nothing to give herself away. She had exited the plane with Hermes, well ahead of Fred, and had ignored him as she picked up her luggage. She hadn’t even reacted when Phyllis met Fred there and they left arm in arm. She’d only glanced at them the one time, but apparently that had been enough for Lela. The couple of days since had not been particularly pleasant, especially since Ginger wouldn’t admit any of it. This morning had been a showdown, and at the end, Lela had sniffed and decided that if she wouldn’t even tell her own mother, then the studio probably wasn’t going to find out any information from her either and they’d left each other in frosty silence. Suppressed rage pooled in her belly at the unfairness of the whole situation. </p>
<p>Ginger wrapped up a crystal vase in a towel provided by the Studio and carefully packed it into one of many cardboard boxes all over the floor of her tiny dressing room. Her next two films would be shot at Warner Bros. and she needed to both clean out her temporary dressing room here at RKO and take some of her familiar stuff with her to her new digs. She was apprehensive to be moving out, but she would be back in less than a year for her next RKO movie, “Finishing School”. She supposed she should be thrilled that she had signed contracts for her next three movies, but she couldn’t muster much enthusiasm at the moment. She needed to finish up because the movers were coming soon to move some of her personal furniture and move the studio-provided items back to storage. She’d occupied this small room for the last two years and it felt like home. It would be strange to move out of RKO, and a bit scary and this morning moving out was one more frustration at the end of a very frustrating series of days.</p>
<p>She gathered the last things off of her make up table, an ash tray and a heavy leaded glass bowl designed to hold jewelry. Its heavy weight sparkled in her hands. The bowl was an old gift from her mother and in a sudden fit of rage, she threw it with all her strength at the wall. It caused a deep boom and shattered spectacularly, glass chunks flying over the room.  </p>
<p>“Wow! What the hell was that?” Fred’s astonished face appeared around the open doorframe. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“Um, it broke,” Ginger replied, shocked at his unexpected appearance. She stood with her fists clenched, face infused with red rage, and it wasn’t difficult to see why it had broken.</p>
<p>“I see that.” He gestured around at the packed up boxes and full trash cans and the furniture shoved against one wall. “Would you like some help cleaning it up?”</p>
<p>“Sure” she said resignedly, waving him into the room.</p>
<p>He tossed his jacket on the couch in the corner and rolled up his sleeves. In silence, the two secret lovers picked up the glass pieces off of every surface and dumped them carefully in the trash. Even now, she couldn’t help but notice how the moved around the room in perfect harmony, as if they were dancing, never running into each other nor getting in the other’s way. Eventually the room was all cleaned up and they looked at each other awkwardly.</p>
<p>“So, what’s all this about?” he gestured towards the boxes and furniture.</p>
<p>“Oh, my next two movies are at Warner Bros, so they needed the room for someone else.” </p>
<p>“Ah,” he said, he crossed his arms over his chest and sat on the arm of the couch, “I hope they are fun movies…”</p>
<p>“Probably not as fun as the last one.” </p>
<p>She couldn’t help but smile, and he returned it with a shy grin and duck of his head. She pulled her cardigan around herself. There were many layers of goodbye right now; goodbye to Rio, goodbye to RKO and goodbye to the man standing in front of her. She chucked one more thing off the makeup table into the open box. Walking to the open door, she took a quick look outside to see if anyone was around who might see her and Fred. He had cleaned out his dressing room across the hallway before they left for Rio. He had no reason to be here. It could be awkward if Fred was seen leaving her dressing room after their movie had wrapped. Fortunately, the hallway was silent. She asked, “So, when are you leaving?” </p>
<p>Fred looked at the carpet and shuffled his feet. “We’re leaving on the train for New York tomorrow morning, then by ship to London.”</p>
<p>She brushed her blond curls out of her eyes, leaned against the doorframe and picked at an invisible nothing on her finger. </p>
<p>“What’s the play called again?”</p>
<p>“The Gay Divorce” he replied, eyes inadvertently lighting up when discussing work. He truly was incorrigible when given the opportunity to put in long hours and hard work. He couldn’t help it. Dancing was his life. “I don’t know how long it will run. Just depends. You know how these things are. The studio tells me that our next movie – together - will be waiting when the run is over.”</p>
<p>“London is a long way from here.”</p>
<p>“Yes, it is.” There was a wistfulness in his voice that told her he wasn’t unaffected by the move.</p>
<p>London was far, far away, and there was no way she could “accidently” run into him. It had been far too easy slipping back into the comfortable pattern of having him in her life that Rio had afforded. It seemed cruel to be given a second chance, which was really no chance at all since Fred was married. She suspected that he would solidify his newlywed relationship with Phyllis while she was out of the picture and just a memory. He would probably forget all about her, as he probably should, and she had Lew in the picture, too, to add to her worries. The hope of seeing Fred again – in whatever capacity - in six or eight or ten months would have to hold her over. </p>
<p>She realized that she’d been off in her own world for a moment and moved out of the doorway. She stepped back into the room, recognizing that she was unconsciously blocking his exit. He reached for her hand.</p>
<p>“I’ve gotta go,” he whispered, and pulled her closer, tentatively, as if asking permission. He ran his hands up and down her arms and tried to catch her eye. She couldn’t look at him, as she tried to contain the whirlwind of emotions in her heart. He caught her hands and patiently held them until she looked up. </p>
<p>“Safe travels, Freddie,” she choked out, speaking past the lump in her throat. Her blue eyes sparkled with tears she refused to let fall.</p>
<p>He paused, as if to memorize her face, then put his hands on the sides of her neck and kissed her gently. It said all the things that they could not say to one another. </p>
<p>“See you when I get back,” he said gruffly. </p>
<p>She handed him his jacket in silence, and he was gone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*******************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hermes pulled up in front of the Astaire house and honked the horn to announce his arrival. He had volunteered to drive the family to the train station this morning. Part of the reason was simply to help his friend and the other was to satisfy his curiosity. He wanted to see what Phyllis was like. The small moving truck in front of the house was nearly full of everything they were taking with them.<br/>
Fortunately, most of the furniture in the house was staying with the rental; since they were only staying for a movie or two, they hadn’t yet looked too hard for a house to buy. Now that Fred and Phyllis were moving to London for an indeterminate period of time, it seemed like a wise choice.</p>
<p>Preparing to knock on the front door, he was surprised when the door opened before his knuckles hit the wood. A pair of movers carried out a desk and tipped their hats towards him. As they left the door open behind them, Hermes let himself into the house.</p>
<p>The empty hallway echoed with his footsteps on the tile of the little Spanish style home. Hearing voices in the kitchen, he meandered that way. </p>
<p>“I can’t wait to get out of this howwible town,” a woman’s voice said. She had a lisp and couldn’t say her “r’s”.</p>
<p>“Ah, honey, it’s not that bad,” Fred’s voice answered, soothing and calm, “Besides, we are coming back in a year or so, so maybe you could try to find something you like about it.”</p>
<p>“I like leaving it?” was her snarky reply, and Hermes couldn’t help but smile at the irreverent attitude. </p>
<p>He decided this would be a good time to announce his presence. He really did not want to eavesdrop on a private conversation. What he’d heard so far was fairly benign, he didn’t really want to hear more. He had no idea what, if anything, Fred had told his wife. </p>
<p>He stepped back a few feet and made sure that his steps were louder, so they’d hear him coming.  Clearing his throat, he said loudly, “Hey Fred? You in here?”</p>
<p>He turned the corner and found Fred and who he presumed was Phyllis, a petite woman with soft wispy brown hair and a distinct Boston accent. They both jumped in surprise at his arrival, but Fred was perhaps happier to see him than she was. Fred leapt down from where he’d been sitting up on top of the breakfast bar, which seemed an odd place to sit. Then again, this was Fred, who was full of surprises, as Hermes was beginning to learn. </p>
<p>“Hermes!” Fred came to him, pumping his hand in welcome. “Come in, come in!”</p>
<p>Fred turned to the woman and introduced them, “Phyllis, this is Hermes Pan, who I was telling you about! The guy who dances just like me.”</p>
<p>Hermes couldn’t imagine a more beautiful compliment, and his smile filled his whole face. </p>
<p>“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he said, directing his attention to her, and kissing her hand when she extended it presumptively. She smiled at him, her brown eyes kind and direct. </p>
<p>“A pleasuwe to meet you, Hewmes,” she said, a wariness in her eyes daring him to comment on her diction. He had no intention of mentioning it; that would be rude, and he was an easygoing man.</p>
<p>Their conversation was interrupted by a whirlwind of four year old boy zooming past. Both Fred and Phyllis made a grab for him, but it was Hermes that actually got an arm around him. The boy wiggled a bit, and then gave up, lying limp under his arm like a sack of potatoes.</p>
<p>“Thank you!” Phyllis laughed, “I’ve been trying to catch up with Peter all morning.”</p>
<p>So, this was Fred’s new step-son. The little blond child wiggled again, and Hermes set him down on his feet, but kept a hold of the back of his pants waistband. He handed him off carefully to his mother, who firmly escorted him to the car. He hoped she would use the seatbelts on him. He didn’t need a child leaping out of the car on the way to the train station. It would be an exceedingly poor way to begin a tedious trip. Idly, he wondered what mischief the child would get to on a three day long train ride and shuddered in relief that it wasn’t his fate.</p>
<p>When he turned back to his friend, he stopped. Fred gazed out the kitchen window at the view of Los Angeles, his face drawn and haggard looking, his customary smile absent. His reluctance to leave and his anguish at having no choice carved itself onto his features. Being caught between two loves was not a comfortable place to be. Then, the mask fell over Fred’s features again as he compartmentalized his life and shut a mental door in his mind, or an emotional door in his heart. With a sigh, he turned to Hermes, his face once again composed and unreadable.</p>
<p>“I’ll take care of her, Fred,” he promised, and slung an arm around his shoulders. Fred didn’t pull away and let himself be turned around and walked to the front door. </p>
<p>“Thanks, Hermes,” he said, his voice strained.  He squared his shoulders, “you’re a pal”.</p>
<p>Fred took a deep breath, and visibly transformed into a spry young man cheerfully joining his wife and boy as he hopped down the front steps and into the waiting car. Hermes speculated that Fred was a better actor than he let on. </p>
<p>The next movie was going to be interesting.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many of the elements of this story are taken from Ginger's autobiography, "My Story", and Fred Astaire's autobiography, "Steps in Time", and from the movie "Flying Down To Rio" in 1933. Other elements are purely fictional and how I wish they had happened. This is a stand alone story but can also be considered an extension of my "New York New York" story, as it's an actual time line continuation.  I hope you like it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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